


Rest

by f0rever15elf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Food mention, Gen, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, alcohol mention, sick reader, slightly suggestive end scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29223684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: When you fall ill, Oberyn takes care of you.
Relationships: Oberyn Martell & Reader, Oberyn Martell/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	Rest

You are nothing if not hard working. You have been since the day you were old enough _to_ work. And that mindset, that determination and drive, certainly didn’t change when the handsome Prince of Dorne came and swept you away to his palace.

You had been hesitant to accompany him at first, the promise of a lush life of lounging and loving not the most appealing of things to you. No, you wanted to be able to work. You wanted to be able to feel the satisfaction of a productive day, beyond just working on your hobbies. Because of this, you very nearly turned down Prince Oberyn’s offer. That is, until he saw the dilemma in your eyes.

“Little one,” he had purred, leaning against the wall next to you as his warm eyes very nearly seared into your soul. “Consider this instead. I shall make for you a job at the palace, and in exchange I ask only that you spend three evening meals a week with me, and that the last day of the week is spent leisurely with me, no thoughts of work, only of pleasure.” Now that… that you could manage. And so with that, you agreed, joining the prince and the promise of a new life.

You took to your job with supreme grace. Your duties mainly consisted of maintaining Oberyn’s study and the robes in which he conducted his practice with poisons. Which, mind you, is no small feat. He is as devout to his practice as he is to his lovers, and while he overflows with passion for his work, it more often than not leads to quite the vast amount of cleanup when he’s whisked away to do whatever duties call him. And, being a meister of poisons and other volatile concoctions, clean up can be rather intensive. But you don’t mind, really, as Oberyn allows you access to all of the books he keeps there in his study to peruse as you like and has even gone so far as to offer to teach you some of the simpler tinctures.

The requisite dinners took some getting used to, rather accustomed to the simplicity of common folk meals. Here, everything is lavish and in excess. You want for nothing, and you find at times that you miss the simpler meals, something softer on the palate than the sweet wines and fragrant meats and exotic fruits. You can’t complain though, especially with the company you keep. The prince is beyond attentive to your every need, often fulfilling the desires you voice in the hazy euphoria of your intimacies during your off times. A new book, a cat to call your own, new fabrics for sewing, and even a set of your own alchemists robes for when he’s training you, all voiced as a passing thought that Oberyn sought to attend to.

It’s a peaceful life, really. An easy life.

As the sun rises this day, dripping through the gossamer curtains like liquid gold, you’re slower to come to than normal, exhaustion still weighing heavy in your bones. It concerns you for only a passing moment as you roust yourself from the soft linens of your bed, donning your gown for the day after cleaning your skin and applying the fragrance you know Oberyn prefers. It’s one you made yourself after learning about the process of perfume making from one of his… less used… texts in his library. When you had asked for the rare flowers to make it, Oberyn had leapt at the opportunity for such a craft, enjoying very much the time he would spend assisting and observing you.

Once prepared for the day, you make your way out to the dining room to grab a bowl of fruit for your breakfast, deciding to eat while you work today. The slight ache in the back of your head makes you less inclined to spend time talking with Doran, already barely able to stomach long conversations with the man. He’s kind to you, but his conversations drag and are filled with such long pauses that more often than not, you find yourself itching to do _something_ while you speak to him. However, the first time you had tried to so much as stitch a loose hem on your stockings while he spoke, he had griped at you for nearly an hour until Oberyn rescued you. Thankfully, today he is nowhere to be seen as you grab your bowl and shuffle to the study.

To your surprise, the prince is already there, bent over his desk as he reads intently over a very, _very_ large book. His eyes barely flicker up to you when you enter, flashing you a quick smirk before he’s looking back at the text, lips moving slightly as he reads. It isn’t often you see him as intensely focused as he currently is, and you adore it. As quietly as you can, you move to the desk he’s provided you to set your bowl down, popping a berry in your mouth as you do so. The blandness of the food should concern you, but you pass it off as a bad berry, nothing more. 

“Not one for the breakfast crowd today, little sparrow?” The nickname is one he had given you after seeing you with the birds in the courtyard, noting how you flitted about like the little feathered beasts.

“I could ask you the same, my prince,” comes your playful retort as you watch him work, carefully pouring some clear liquid into the flask over an open flame. “You’re up quite early today.”

“There is an energy in my bones brought about by this new tome Doran gifted me yesterday. I was anxious to read, and with Ellaria out of town to visit one of our daughters, I had little reason to remain in bed past sunrise.” He glances back over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. “My little sparrow neglected to join me after dinner yesterday, you see.”

You clear your throat, moving over to the table to see what it is he’s reading as you sidestep his playful jest. “This is not the common tongue…. What language is this in?”

“A very old one.” His fingers trace over the rich ink almost reverently. “One from the far south that has long since gone unspoken by more than a handful of isolated individuals.”

“Can you read it?”

“With some difficulty, yes. But the knowledge kept in this book on rare poisons and tonics…, well, it will be worth the struggle to read.” He turns to press a kiss to your temple before looking back at the book. “Will you be working in here today?”

“Just to clean, my prince. The shelves gather dust, so I will be cleaning it away today. Perhaps I’ll work on rebinding a text or two.” You press your fingers between your eyes, running them along your brow as you try to bid the blossoming headache to leave you. “I think there is some residue left on the shelves from the gas cloud you created the other day. It draws the dust to it.”

“Yes, the tonic I used was clearly in the wrong proportions,” he mumbles, eyes once more transfixed on the text. “Do not work too hard, little one.”

“Of course, my prince.”

~~~~

 _Where_ did this exhaustion come from? Since the morning, it has stayed with you, and you find yourself taking more and more breaks through the day. Oberyn has been watching you, a subtle frown on his face. This is unlike you, normally so full of life as you flitted about the study. Today, you are so lethargic that he begins to worry for your well being. When you sit next, once more massaging your head to try and work away the splitting headache, he finally makes his way to your side.

“Little sparrow, are you well?” You look up at him, squinting a bit at the bright light of the room. His face is full of nothing but concern, and you do your best to give him a reassuring smile.

“Yes, my prince. Simply tired is all.” His frown deepens as he crouches in front of you.

“Dearest, you have never been talented in the art of deception.” He reaches and takes your hand. “Come now, what ails you?”

“I told you my prince, I’m simply tired.” You gently pull your hand away, standing to your feet far too quickly. Thank goodness Oberyn’s reflexes are as quick as they are, as when you stand, your ears ring and the whole room spins as you race to meet the ground. The sound of your prince calling your name is soft and distant, muffled by the unholy ringing in your ears and all you can manage out in reply is a groan before your last, meager holds on consciousness slip from you.

~~~~

When you wake, it’s as if you’ve been run over by the very carriage that brought you here. Every joint aches and there is such a throbbing in your head that all you can manage out is a soft whimper when the light filtering through the curtains serves only to exacerbate the problem. Yet open your eyes you do, squinting as you look around the room, and you realize that you’re currently laying in Oberyn’s chambers. The normally soothingly soft sheets feel like fire against your feverish skin, and your mouth is so dry that you can hardly swallow.

You should have listened to Oberyn, you’re clearly unwell.

With gargantuan effort, you sit yourself up, taking a moment to let the spinning of the room abate before you attempt to let your feet find the floor. You need to go back to your room so your prince doesn’t catch whatever it is you’ve managed to come down with. As you take a moment to press on the skin between your eyes to try and dull the ache, you don’t notice the door to his chambers opening. That is, until Obery’s stern voice echoes through the room, drawing your attention.

“And just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” He covers the room in no time at all, standing before you. “Back to bed, little sparrow. You are not leaving here until you have recovered.”

“My prince, I-,” you attempt to voice your reasoning, but he is having none of it, cutting you off.

“Absolutely not. You will be staying here until you are well so that I may personally watch over you.” His gaze is stern, the one he only uses when he demands attention from his audience. It’s the voice you know better than to argue with. When you cast your eyes down, fidgeting with your hands in your lap, his face softens and he kneels down on one knee before you. “My dearest treasure, you gave me quite the fright earlier when you collapsed. If you’re unwell, you must tell me, understand?”

You close your eyes and nod, taking in a shaking breath. “I am sorry, my Prince. I simply thought I was tired. Truly. I was not hiding anything from you.” When you open your eyes again, they’re glassy, filled with unshed tears. Oberyn’s gaze is a soft one as he watches you, still kneeling before you.

“Being tired, little one, makes falling ill so much easier. You must rest and not work yourself half to death. Now, lie back. I will take care of you until you are well again.” You nod at his words and he stands, gentle hands cupping your shoulders to help lay you down, but you flinch from his touch.

“S-sorry,” you gasp, curling in on yourself. “My skin, it burns to touch. The linens feel like sand.” The tears are still in your eyes as you look up to your lover, the man who has only ever provided good things for you, and for the first time you see a worry etched into his face the likes of which you have never seen before.

“It is the fever,” he sighs, touching the back of his hand to your forehead. “You will need to sweat it out. I’ll run you a bath to relax in, little one. Wait here.” He leans over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline before righting himself to call for one of the other chamber maids’ assistance.

It doesn’t take long for the sweet smells of flowers to permeate the room as the recessed stone tub in the center of the room fills with steaming water. Oberyn thanks his assistant before she takes her leave, then comes to you. “Let’s get into the water, alright?” His voice is soft as he holds his hand out for you, helping you out of the bed before carefully undressing you. There is no ulterior motive here, no drive to pepper your sensitive skin with kisses or playful nips. No, instead he does his best to keep from touching you too much as the garments fall away, pooling by your feet. He’s quick to shuck his own robes before helping to ease you into the water.

The sigh that passes through your lips borders on a groan as your eyes slip closed. Quietly, Oberyn slips into the water beside you. “Thank you,” you whisper as you try and will your body to relax, letting the water soothe the ache in your bones.

“You need not thank me for taking care of what I care so deeply about, little one,” he purrs, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “The oils in the water are ones used to soothe illness such as the one you’ve contracted. We’ll take many baths like this one until you feel yourself again. We must have you sweat out the fever.” His voice is fuzzy, your ability to focus diminishing as you relax further, the exhaustion washing over you. You start only slightly at the feeling of a cool cloth on your forehead, but Oberyn’s gentle cooing quickly relaxes you once again. “Rest, lover. I’ll be here to care for you.”

Your eyes still closed, you smile, knowing that Oberyn Martell is a man of his word.

~~~

“Little sparrow.” The gentle words float through your dreamscape, barely reaching you. You mumble incoherently, rolling over on your side as you try to ignore the voice. “Spaarrooowwww,” calls the voice again, a gentle hand on your shoulder to shake you awake. With a groan, you roll back over and crack open an eye to see Oberyn there with a tray of food in his hands.

“Oh, my prince,” you manage to rasp out, slowly sitting up. You don’t remember getting out of the bath, you don’t even remember falling asleep, but the ache in your joints has definitely lessened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” You rub the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to chase away the grogginess.

“You need the sleep, little one. I told you to rest, didn’t I?” With a grin, Oberyn perches himself on the edge of the bed, the tray set down beside him. “But now you need to eat.” To punctuate the statement, he holds a ripe strawberry to your lips that you gratefully accept. “Good?”

Your brow creases as you swallow and you shake your head. “I can barely taste it,” you lament. Strawberries have always been your favorite of the luxuries Oberyn demands be kept around.

“Oh my little sparrow,” Oberyn frowns, reaching out to cup your cheek gently. “You should regain your tastes once this illness passes. Until then, you must eat well even if it does not taste too pleasing. Good food will help you recover more quickly.” He offers you an orange slice this time, and while the bursting of the fruit on your tongue is refreshing, its taste too is dull and lackluster.

“I don’t like being sick, my prince.” You try, you really do, to not complain or whine around Oberyn too much, knowing he has much to deal with and you’d not add to these things with petty complaints. But at this point, you simply can’t help it. 

“And I do not like you being sick.” He places his hand on yours, lacing your fingers with his. “But I will be with you here until you are well again, I promise. I shall do everything within my power to comfort you. You need only say the word.” He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently as he watches you with those beautiful brown eyes that catch the golden light through the curtains. Such ethereal beauty.

He stays with you like this for as long as you need to work through most of the food on the board until you refuse to eat another bite, instead following it with a goblet of cool water. “Oberyn…?” you whisper as he turns to set the empty goblet on the bedside table. He turns to look at you with raised brows as it is not often you use his proper name with him, though he has implored you to on numerous occasions. “Will… will you hold me while I sleep this time? My dreams are strange from the fever and my sleep, fitful.”

“Nothing would make me happier, little one.” In no time, he’s stripped down to only the soft cotton breeches he wears beneath his robes before sliding into bed beside you. You curl yourself up against him, head resting against his chest as you breathe in the warm scent of the spiced wine he so loves to indulge in. Strong arms wind around you, holding you against him until you slip off to the steady beating of his heart. The fever dreams leave you be this time.

~~~~

“My prince, I promise you I’m feeling much better today,” you protest as he pushes you gently back onto the bed.

“No, no, my dearest. You do not get to collapse on me one day and then immediately return to work the next. I am thrilled you feel better, but I must insist you rest at least one day more.” He smirks as he leans in to run his lips along the shell of your ear. “Besides, today is your day of rest, to be spent with me anyways.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sound of his voice and you pull back just enough to look up at the grinning prince. You have no dog in this fight, you know it, and so you relent, reaching up to wrap your arms around your prince’s neck. “I had lost track of the days, lover. Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your cheek and forehead, lavishing you with attentions. “But I do think another bath will do you some good. Your fever broke last night, I’m sure the sweat is at very least uncomfortable.” You can’t argue with that. Your gown sticks to you in an uncomfortable manner, and a perfumed bath sounds lovely.

~~~

“I could get used to this treatment, my prince,” you grin as he sponges your down with a damp cloth, wiping the sweat from your neck and shoulders as you sit in the steaming pool. “Such doting behavior is certain to spoil me.”

“Perhaps to spoil you is the goal, little one.” His lips have not left your skin since you’ve entered the bath together, following after the cloth wherever it may go. “Perhaps I wish for you to spend more days lounging like this with me, carefree.”

“You know I enjoy the work I do,” you hum, letting your head fall to the side as he kisses up to behind your ear. He hums softly, nibbling at your earlobe as one hand dips below the water to rest on your thigh.

“And you do not enjoy the time you spend with your prince, then?” You can hear the teasing in his voice, your own lips quirking up into a subtle grin.

“I pray you do not put words into my mouth, my prince.”

“Something else, then,” he very nearly growls, turning your face to his to capture your lips in a burning kiss. You had denied him while you carried a fever, fearful of getting him sick as well, so now that it was broken, he takes full advantage. It takes no time before he’s licking at your lips, groaning as you grant him the access he longs for, tasting you. It’s passionate and intense and so full of desire that you feel as if you’ll combust, Oberyn’s touch absolutely intoxicating.

When you finally break the kiss, gasping for breath, your eyes are hazy and lust blown as you smile softly at him. “Perhaps, my prince, I can be persuaded to spend another day or two lazing about with you.”

“Perhaps?” His grin is catlike, mischievous as his hand on your thigh drifts higher.

“Perhaps,” you echo, leaning in to kiss him once more.

“I can be very persuasive,” he mumbles against your lips, nipping at them.

“I am counting on it.” 


End file.
